Asami was still there, looking, and the guy his age did the same. Though, he was first to speak up amongst the awkwardness. With a disapproving shave of his head, but hidden surprise, he placed his items back on the counter and walked away.

 "And get this guy out of here too. I won't be coming back here again." and with that, he was seen walking out the shop's glass door. Asami, the old cashier, and anyone nearby, stood in silence. Asami slowly looked away from the door with his eyebrows high in a 'it-is-what-it-is' way, even though his cheeks were still tinted pink. His hand let the rice bag rest on the counter, along with the previous guy's items who were now forgotten. 

 "...So uh, who is that guy?" whispered Asami as the old man passed the rice's bar code through the small red scanner. 

 "Young man... your generation is always like that. It doesn't matter who he is, just stay away from him. I like you too much to see you become a stubborn rich man!" He chuckled, handing the rice on a plastic bag as Asami passed him crumpled up money.

"Y-yeah! So rude!" Is all Asami had left to say about the situation. With a wave and a smile, he got out of the store and headed back home. 

1:24PM, if he could make it in time his mother would get to add rice to lunch. Asami's legs sped up, bag flying along with his strides as a cherry blossom petal stuck to his nose. The wind sweeped it off as Asami got back into the apartment complex, then to his and his mother's. He took off his shoes, thinking about the guy at the store. Who was he? From where? Why was he so rude? And why was he attractive? He sparked interest in Asami, and it’d be hard to even try to get rid of it even if the other was a complete stranger he knew he would never meet again. Even if that guy was an asshole, he was pretty. That was all Asami needed anyways.

Once he put his slippers on and closed the door, he ran to the kitchen with the rice back and placed it forcefully down the counter. He panted quietly with a grin “I… got the… rice!”. His mother smiled and jokingly clapped.

 “Good job, useful for once!” She exclaimed in a playful manner, grabbing the rice bag and using its content inside. Asami walked back to the table’s chair he oh so wanted to sit back on and took his phone out his pocket. He responded to texts, most of the replies going like ‘You’re beautiful!’, ‘I’d love to kiss you, dear, ‘We should go on a date don't you think princess?’. All for different girls. He loved it. He adored the attention. But, his train of thought stopped when it was interrupted by the mental image of the boy at the store. Who was he? Asami decided to tell his mother about him.

 “Mom, I met a guy at the market today, did you know that?

 “No, I didn't know. Did he recognize you?”

 “Nah. He was rude to that old man. But he was actually very pre-”

 “Before you finish that sentence, think about what happened to you. I told you not to go trusting so easily haven't I. Pretty boys are dangerous, Renjiro”

Silence. Asami knew exactly what she meant, and he hated it. Why did she have to mention what happened every time he had hope? But Asami knew she was right somehow. He didn't want THAT happening again. People aren't born playboys right away after all. With the now awkward and sad atmosphere, the plates of food were placed in front of Asami. He began to eat, even if he was pouting when the memories went back to his head. DIstract distract. He had to distract himself. He didn't want to think about him again.

 That is how Asami and his mother settled to conversing about the city gossip, and other meaningless things. It lifted up the mood and steered Asami’s mind to something else, at least. 

After eating his lunch, Asami cleaned the plates and went back to his room to do something for the rest of the day. He sat on his desk’s chair, taking out his college material. Homework for the soul and the mind. Asami thought it was a bother. It was a bother that there were so many bothers today. But, with the lift of his pen, he began to write for his class the next day.